


Fake Out

by Wandering_Anon



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series, 悪魔城ドラキュラ 暁月の円舞曲 と 蒼月の十字架 | Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow & Dawn of Sorrow
Genre: International Fanworks Day, International Fanworks Day 2019, maybe one day I will spend more than fifteen minutes on the things I publish, this was just an excuse to write Soma as a goopy college student can you tell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 05:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandering_Anon/pseuds/Wandering_Anon
Summary: Soma picks up a new interest. Arikado is concerned.





	Fake Out

**Author's Note:**

> It’s not my proudest work but I actually got something done for IFD this year bayBEE
> 
> (it’ll probably be revised a bit later bc i Just Can’t write something in one day and have it be good orz)

It wasn’t uncommon for Mina to express her concern over Soma. 

She had known the student well before Arikado, Yoko, or Julius ever had, so subtle changes in his personality had always struck her first. And though she would often bring the information up to Yoko, Julius, Arikado, or any combination thereof, she would also often work it out on her own. When she couldn’t, someone else in their little group could text Soma and get an immediate reply. Sometimes within the hour. Sometimes within the day. Always soon enough to dissuade their fears. 

The moral here was, Soma’s moods were conquerable. Even if they _hurt_ , even if they holed him up for days where he didn’t want to talk to anyone, he would still have the ability to text his friends and let them know he was okay. But, if what Mina said had been true, there had been nothing but silence from Soma for three straight days, no matter whose message it was. 

She had a key to his apartment. But, as she explained the situation to Arikado and handed the key to him, she had quietly admitted that she didn’t have the strength to do what needed to be done, if the worst-case scenario had indeed come true. Arikado did. 

She‘s getting better at coming to terms with Soma. But that isn’t where the agent’s mind needs to be right now. 

A lot of things could be wrong, for Dracula’s vessel to have vanished from contact. Soma wasn’t exactly devoid of targets on his back. Arikado hadn’t sensed any uptick in the amount of darkness flowing into the world, and Soma had _seemed_ normal lately, but Arikado knew better than to assume that those things meant certain safety. 

Which was why, after setting Julius’s number to speed dial and picking up the light rifle he took when he went scouting, Arikado found himself standing in front of Soma Cruz’s apartment door. 

He isn’t exactly expecting to see a doorbell, having noticed none on the doors leading up to this one, but he does a quick scan anyway before rapping on the door three times in quick and even succession. When this is met by not a sound from inside, he tries again, the strikes louder and longer but still eliciting no result. 

He takes out the key and stares at it for a moment. It’s a charming little thing, attached to its own engraved tag. Cute. Then, decisively, he unlocks the door. 

This particular apartment opens into the kitchen. Soma is not in the kitchen. Arikado steps soundlessly into the room and shuts the door with little more than a click. Another, slightly more thorough inspection, reveals that nothing is in the kitchen. Nothing _had_ been in that kitchen since some point yesterday.

Concerning, in a way. Arikado continues his search.

There’s nothing in the living room, nor the bathroom connected to it. No immediate signs of struggle or madness, nor any scent of beast or monster, but also very minimal signs of life. There was no convincing evidence stating something had happened. There was also no convincing evidence stating that something _hadn’t_. 

There was only one more room to check before Arikado would have an definitive answer on what happened to Soma Cruz. His soundless footsteps carried him to the closed door that led to Soma’s bedroom. 

The agent reached for the doorknob, and despite himself, he froze for a brief moment before even reaching it. He had doubts. But he didn’t even take the time to acknowledge what those doubts were before he shoved them aside and grasped the doorknob. The boy’s safety came above any privacy or safety issue that may come of entering his bedroom unprompted.

Arikado opens the door about halfway, just enough for him to see inside. 

He stops.

Blinks.

There was Soma, curled up on the guest bed with his jacket thrown over him like a rudimentary blanket (there’s one _right there_ to his left, Arikado notes with a hint of ire), fast asleep with his face smushed into a handheld game console. Not injured. Not dead. Not radiating darkness like a living incarnation of hell. Just... asleep. 

Arikado pushes the door the rest of the way open, and his eyes narrow when this reveals the red flashing light next to the handheld’s ‘System Battery’ label. If Soma’s work went to waste, it would be his own fault, but he wouldn’t be pleased about it all the same. For him to have played long enough to fall asleep, quite a bit of progress had to have been made. And, all of that put aside, a Soma that is conscious can give actual answers for what‘s been going on. Arikado puts a hand on the sleeping boy’s shoulder and gives him a strong, but not ungentle, shake. “Soma,” he addresses somewhat sternly.

Soma jolts awake, reflexively slapping Arikado’s hand away. He opens his eyes, blinks a few times, then pries his face from the console, recognises the low battery warning with a nearly inaudible sound of surprise and concern, and fumbles blindly for the charging cable. After a while of grabbing at nothing, he comes to the realisation that he isn’t able to find it without actually looking at the outlet, so he turns his head in that general direction, reaches for the first wire-looking thing he finds, realises that it isn’t the charger but is rather the cord for a desk lamp, and only _then_ grabs and plugs in the proper cable. All in about twelve seconds. 

It’s only after this display that Soma Cruz, incarnation of Dracula, actually acknowledges the agent and attempts to look him in the eye. “Hey, Arikado.” 

He sounds impossibly embarrassed. Vicariously, Arikado is too, although years of dealing with Belmonts had toughened his resistance to second-hand stupidity. He clears his throat, then says simply, “Mina was worried about you.” 

“She was?” Guilty, at once (Arikado wonders, every once in a while, if that’s why Dracula selected _Soma_ of all the eclipse-born to be the carrier of his soul. The intensity of emotion that the college student had was dangerous, and so useable). Soma grabs for his phone with marginally more success than his attempts at acquiring the cord, and types out a message with the speed that only comes of practice. In the process, the handheld winds up screen-side-up, and Arikado is given a perfect image of the game that he had since come to infer had taken up three days of his younger comrade’s time. 

What he sees is rather unimpressive. 

On the screen, in what looks like some endless grassy paradise under a sparsely-clouded blue sky, stood some black and red creature that looked like a much-more-cartoonish version of the sentient armours he’d seen in his father’s castle. It raises an arm in what was probably an idle animation, showing Arikado that the arm was bladed, before returning to staring straight ahead and moving only to breathe. 

He can see how it might look somewhat cool and intimidating to someone who hadn’t seen the horrors and hells that took place within the castle’s four walls, but with that experience (which Soma had too), it simply looks... foolish. The fact that it was just standing around in an impossibly cheerful field did not help increase its intimidation. 

“What is it that has been occupying your time lately?” Arikado asks, voice dry but genuinely curious. 

Soma, following Arikado’s gaze down to the console, answers, “Pokémon,” as though that explained everything. 

To him, it probably did. To Arikado, it did not.

He’d certainly heard of the franchise, during his many years on the earth. He had even played it once out of curiosity, back in the games’ heyday. He hadn’t particularly enjoyed it back then, and if the brightness of the colours said anything, it still wasn’t his thing, to this day. 

But it was _Soma’s_ thing, apparently. 

The younger boy picks up the console and holds it flat so Arikado can still see the screen. He taps the display a few more times, and a menu pops up, displaying six other creatures. The rest of his team, Arikado presumes. He scrolls the cursor over to a different one– Adrian, is its name– and selects it. Some sort of bi-winged purple bat (Crobat, if Arikado’s memory serves him correctly, and it should) pops onto screen. Soma, stylus in hand and smile on his face, drags a cupcake to the animal’s face, and it eats the virtual treat happily. 

_Adrian._

“Why did you name it that?” Arikado asks evenly. 

“I don’t know. I just think it fits.” Soma strokes ‘Adrian’’s head a bit more, and the bat stretches its wings and smiles at him. “I nickname all of my Pokémon.” 

“Of course.” Arikado doesn’t press the issue; he’s not sure how he would, even if he wanted to. Instead, he watches Soma lavish affection on the Pokémon for a while longer, and thinks. Soma Cruz had brushed off three days of commitments just to play this game. Soma Cruz, the reincarnation of the Dark Lord, had spent three days straight playing Pokémon and naming every creature he obtained.

He really was something unique. 

Soma stops petting the Pokémon on the screen; then, nodding to himself, he rotates the handheld and pushes it towards Arikado like an offering. The agent looks up at Soma, taking in the part-pleading-part-chagrined-part-apologetic look plastered on his face. “Do you want to try?” 

Arikado glances down at the offered device, the chubby little bat-thing still on its screen. “No, thank you,” he answers, and straightens his back. “I need to resume my work. I will tell Miss Hakuba that you’re alright.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” Soma reclaims the console and adjusts himself so that one of his shoulders is propped against the headrest. He gets his stylus within one centimetre of the screen before he looks up suddenly. “Oh! And tell Mina to text me so we can plan something soon!“

Arikado’s eyes flit to Soma’s phone, then back to the console that’s now firmly held in the boy’s hands, and he smiles. With every step Soma took on his own, even something as minor as becoming enamoured with a franchise, he was growing farther and farther away from the fate that chained him to the darkness.

“I will make sure to do so. Enjoy the rest of your night, Soma.”

“You too.”


End file.
